Loading the Firearm
by Feverant Wishes
Summary: Black Days Dreaming by the Way  A prologue to One Shot. Of sorts. If you know what it means, you're old enough to read it.
1. Chapter 1

Black Days Dreaming By The Way

or

How the Choices of One Person Divorced Her From Society

It was simple. Go in, keep a lookout, and get away before the limited security on Sorna find out, and off into the sunset, with Dino-Embyro. It was perfect, despite lack of details. They should have paid attention to the date. The inspection. And now she was calling out. Danger, danger. And those eyes were in her mind. The truest blue, with what her imagination painted as curling wisps of silver smoke. Probably merely blue-gray, oh, but he was crashing after her, seeking an explanation, calling for her to wait, and oh, how it Commanded her pace to halt, but no, she didn't dare.

The others were moving fast too, and she was leaping on to the jeep, legs shoving her on. He fired and the jeep started to fail. The mission demander, tackled him, and dragged him with a gun to his head, and she was shaking, asking no, but the self-appointed executionar was squeezing, and red was seeping right out from a knife in the gut. He had managed to stab her demanding officer, and her demanding officer was bleeding, bleeding, and the blood was attracting some of the small animals. Pro-compsagnauthids. Her demanding officer was bit, and everything halted.

She knew what those could do. Her demanding officer was going to be eaten alive, and wouldn't care. It was nothing to walk over. Nothing to take the pistol. Nothing to press the trigger. Something to see his eyes. Nothing to watch as the co-leader stepped forward to drag him away. Nothing to sit on the ground. Something to see his face as he resisted. And all too much of a thing to help. But help she did, tears pooling, tears wanting freedom. His freedom.

The shotgun was beyond his reach. He looked close to total wrath as he pulled against the handcuffs. Mmm, handcuffs. Concentrate darling. Don't reach. Don't caress his wrist. And now he had the funniest look on his face. Go in the boat. Watch him be taken prisoner. And it wouldn't mean a thing to just eat while he had naught, the boat going up the coast, to Seattle, a long trip. Save to her. She was walking. Down the stairs. To his place of prison. She looked in. Called his name.

"Mr. Muldoon?"


	2. More Detail

It was an ordinary inspection, that was all. But there was an alarum, and he had to look and see what caused it. Wide dark eyes and a frozen figure by a fence. He advanced, and the girl, for that was what she still was, darted into the jungle forest, giving a call of some sort. He didn't think she was planning on giving a party. He followed.

"Wait right there!" She jerked to a stop, before starting off again. He surged after her and caught glimpses of others, adults, converging on a slightly-battered jeep. Up came the SPAS 12, and the distinctive sound rang around the tiny clearing. Direct hit to the petrol tank. And then one of the adults turned away from the jeep, and leapt at him.

The shotgun skittered beyond a fern. His throat contricted as the man seized him by his collar in one hand, and with the other reached out, and the weight of his sidearm disappeared as it was pulled from his holster, and pressed to his head. But at the least, his attacker didn't want to kill him, as he took his own sweet time. Right hand crept to a knife hidden close to his skin. And it flashed briefly before sinking into the attacker.

Muldoon took a deep breath of air, as his attacker let go in favor of the dagger pommel in his stomach. No dramatic gasp, just widened eyes looking as the dagger slid out. Blood seeped out, fast dripping on the ground. Compies gathered, attracked by the scent, and as the man fell backwards, they were rewarded. They chewed on him, and the startled look on his face was assauged by the sleeping venom of the procompsagnauthids.

The girl stepped forward, bent over, and picked up the gun. She aimed, and fired, then looked straight at him. Her eyes were dark and dreaming, and she had apparently removed herself from the situation, and wasn't in full control of her actions. A woman stepped forward while he was entranced by the strange look, and handcuffed him, the click brought him to reality.

It was a small walk to the shore, where a boat was waiting. He was shoved down onto one of the rows, and his shotgun was placed on his lap, yet because of his shackles, he couldn't reach it. The entire affair was infuriating. He pulled against the restraints, only to get backhanded on to the boat floor, by the woman who had taken charge. If she was paying attention to him, it wouldn't have hurt his pride so much, but she was currently glaring at the girl, who was explaining the nature of compies, and their venom.

But when the girl heard the smack, she reached over and helped him off the floor, ignoring the increased intemsity of the dark-haired woman. Her hand was lightly on his wrist as she continued her explaination, and it softly caressed the area of skin around his shackles. She glanced over, and then her hand left off, as she ducked her head towards the other side.

Came they soon enough to a small ship, some miles offshore, and he was transferred down into the cargo hold, where they had more adequate supplies to hold prisoners. On the inside wall, was the BioSyn logo, one of InGens main competetors. It drove the point home. Once captured, once seen, he was never going to be freed. The door shut, and the darkness surrounded him.


End file.
